


Meeting Hurricane Monica

by fckyeahgallavich



Series: Requests/Prompts [14]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ian defends Mickey, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Protective Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: CC prompt: what would mickey do if he was there with ian when monica showed up instead of trevor?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Requests/Prompts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/878244
Comments: 17
Kudos: 339





	Meeting Hurricane Monica

Mickey woke up before Ian one morning and decided: he wanted Ian awake too. Under the covers, Mickey slid to Ian’s body so they were flush together and kissed at Ian’s chest. Ian didn’t even stir.  _ Okay…  _ So Mickey trailed his kisses down to his navel where he bit gently at his belly-button (as much as he could with this no-fat-having motherfucker). Now Ian’s hand started to swat at Mickey’s face with a sleepy groan. Mickey dodged the hand and dropped lower, running his nose through the red, curling pubic hair. He inhaled Ian’s scent and hummed in satisfaction — this is what finally woke the bastard up.

“Mickey?” Ian asked groggily, tossing the blanket back to expose Mickey laying happily, completely naked, between Ian’s equally naked legs.

“Ian,” Mickey replied innocently. Ian grinned wickedly (though the effect was distorted by grogginess and he looked a little goofy, which Mickey found endearing). “Mind?” Mickey asked, nipping lightly at Ian’s inner thigh, which Ian tore away with an  _ actual giggle.  _ He raised his leg, bending it at the knee to give Mickey more room to work.

The dark-haired man moved back to the main attraction, and without any further haste, swallowed him down and started to work.

There was something about sucking Ian’s cock that got Mickey going like nothing else. Was it the taste? The velvety feel of soft skin on his tongue? The sensation of feeling the shaft throb and swell in his mouth and between his fingers? The sounds that Ian made as he pleasured him? The heady knowledge that  _ he  _ was the one making Ian Gallagher lose his mind? 

Whatever the reason, giving Ian head was easily Mickey’s favorite pastime.

So why in the _fuck_ was Ian checking his fucking _phone_ at a time like this? He popped off and crawled up to straddle Ian’s hips, taking the phone out of Ian’s shocked hands.

“Mick, I — ”

“Save it,” Mickey grumbled, examining the screen. A missed call from “Answer At Own Risk.” Instant fury wracked through his body as he considered what that kind of name could be.

“Who the fuck is this?” Mickey demanded, slamming the phone down on Ian’s chest with a  _ thwack. _

“Ow!” Ian hissed, moving his phone away from the impact zone and rubbing at the sore spot. “Psycho! It’s my mom!” Mickey sat back in shock.  _ Oh….  _ So… he did the only thing that made sense… He rubbed gently at the impact zone in apology.

“What does she want?” He asked at the chirp of Ian’s phone, knowing it must be a text from her. He moved to climb off Ian’s lap but Ian stopped him, sitting up to kiss Mickey softly and holding him close by the waist. Mickey smirked shyly and waited for Ian to answer.

“Says she’s in town and wants to see me,” Ian sighed. Mickey thought for a moment, hands moving to Ian’s shoulders of their own accord to lightly massage them.

“You haven’t mentioned Monica in…. Months,” Mickey murmured.

“Yeah, well… I haven’t really talked to her since I got on my meds. Figured she’d be pissed at me if I did. Something about ‘denying my truth’ or some shit.” Mickey’s brows raised and fell in a gesture that said ‘Well, alright then.’

“Coffee?” Mickey offered. Ian hummed and kissed Mickey’s chest but shook his head ‘no.’

“I had another idea,” he grumbled against Mickey’s skin, raising his hips to finish his point. Mickey bit his lip and hummed in return, allowing Ian to toss him over and have his wicked, wicked way with him.

  
  


…….

They’d decided on The Backend, a very gay friendly bar with lots of room for distraction in case things got tense — dancing, billiards, and TVs playing random sitcoms and queer-related movies. 

Mickey was unsure about finally meeting Monica. After so many years of seeing nothing but the damage she’d caused to Ian, and of course what she told Ian to convince him that Mickey didn’t love him for who he is “naturally,” Mickey couldn’t say he was entirely excited to be meeting her.

“It was bound to happen at some point,” Mickey grumbled after Ian’s fourth time insisting that Mickey didn’t have to meet her if he didn’t want to.

“Yeah, but…. I get it if you don’t want to.”

“And surely you’ll get why I want to?” Mickey shot back. Ian shrugged as though saying ‘not really.’ He stopped walking and pressed against the nearest storefront so they could talk. “She’s your mom and you love her. In spite of  _ all the bullshit  _ she’s put you and your siblings through, you still talk to her and love her. She’s important to you, so I should meet her.” Ian grinned shyly. “Besides, if she tries to come at me sideways then I’ve got enough to put her back in her place and I’m  _ dying  _ for an excuse to, so yeah I’m not missing this chance.” Ian laughed and wrapped his arm around Mickey’s shoulders as they resumed their walk to the bar.

Mickey didn’t know exactly who he was looking for, expecting a woman who looked just like Ian because of how many times Ian told him Frank hated him for looking so much like her. But the blonde woman who ran up to Ian was not who he was expecting. Her mousey voice and trembling form defied the image he’d always held of “hurricane Monica.”

“Oh my God!” She screamed, “You’re — you’re gorgeous! I made a  _ gorgeous man!”  _ She cried. Mickey’s brows furrowed at the sentiment. He’d never heard a mother refer to her children in such a blunt way as that before, referencing how they did a “good job making” their child… Especially considering she’d apparently been on cocaine most of her pregnancy with Ian.

“And Ian’s gorgeous friend!” she beamed, turning her affection to Mickey, holding her hand out for a shake. Reluctantly, Mickey accepted it for a curt up-down motion but quickly broke the connection.

“Boyfriend, Mom. This is Mickey,” Ian introduced.

“Oh my  _ god!  _ Finally meeting him!” Monica crowed with excitement.

“In the flesh,” Mickey murmured sarcastically. Ian side-eyed him for the attitude but Monica didn’t even seem to notice.

“You look  _ nothing  _ like your dad, I never would’ve placed you,” she laughed. Mickey nodded a single nod. He’d actually never heard that before… Always told he was a mini-Terry and that the apple clearly didn’t fall far from the tree. If this was her idea of kissing up, it was working. “Though you kinda look like your mom… what was her name?”

“Oksana,” Mickey replied mechanically as he usually did when it came to anything related to his mom. It wasn’t a topic he was okay with having with anyone usually, not even with Ian and  _ especially  _ not with a stranger.

“That’s right! Beautiful woman!” Mickey nodded, allowing the compliment but not really wanting to contribute to the topic. They stood in awkward silence for about half a minute before Ian gestured to them to get inside.

They had decided a year ago when they got back together that Mickey was not to behave as Ian’s caretaker. Ian was to take responsibility for his diagnosis and Mickey was only allowed to get involved if Ian needed his help, but the hovering he did after Ian first got out of the hospital was strictly forbidden. And Mickey held to this rule very well. Ian managed his drinking on his own, balancing alcohol with water so he could maintain a nice buzz without going off-the-rails drunk. An addict like Monica didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘limits’ or ‘moderation.’

Ian kept insisting to Monica that he didn’t need a shot or another beer when he’d barely made it half-way through the one he already had, but she kept insisting and even buying them. In less than an hour Ian had consumed two shots and two beers… way more than Ian’s usual amount. Any more and Mickey was definitely going to cut the ginger off, whether he liked it or not.

Half an hour later Ian was nursing a water, without any prodding from Mickey, and leaned on Mickey’s shoulder to kiss his cheek before announcing that he was going to the bathroom and would be right back.

“You two seem so close!” Monica announced after a moments’ awkward silence. Mickey glanced at her and nodded, clenching his lips together. “Thick as thieves…” she murmured awkwardly. “You’ve… Were you the same kid he was with at fifteen? The one who went to juvie?” Mickey raised his brows. Ian had confided that to Monica?

“Yeah… Yeah, that was me,” Mickey finally admitted.

“Ugh, he loved you so much — even all the way back then! I could tell!” Mickey looked sadly at his beer. He had been able to tell all the way back then too. Ian wore his emotions on his sleeve back then, but Mickey could still read him just as openly even now that Ian kept things closer to the vest because… well, he knew Ian. He knew that man inside and out. Mickey nodded, remembering how for  _ so long  _ he hadn’t been able to return that love the way Ian’d deserved.

“So I guess you got past the diagnosis?” Monica asked a little too close to Mickey’s ear for comfort. He allowed the proximity due to the loud music, though, and he didn’t want her spreading Ian’s business in a busy bar needlessly.

“Wasn’t anything to get past,” Mickey muttered back. Her brows shot up and she seemed to search for words for a minute.

“I just… remembered Ian telling me —”

“Whatever he told you was because he was sick and refusin his diagnosis,” he replied harshly. They made eye contact and Mickey held it until Monica looked away bashfully. “But he’s accepted it now, is takin his meds. You know, like  _ you  _ shoulda done when he was a kid.” Monica backed away from him, hurt clearly etched on her face though she still refused to look at him.

“There’s that Milkovich…” she mouthed. Mickey narrowed his eyes. The way she said it like it was an insult… But before he could ask her what the fuck that was supposed to mean Ian returned from the bathroom and ordered another water.

“No, no don’t let him tell you what to do!” She laughed like it was a joke, dissing Mickey like that. Mickey’s brows shot up and he was about to charge forward, throwing out the fact that he hadn’t told Ian what to do  _ once  _ that night but Ian beat him to it, and was much more reasonable than he was.

“He hasn’t told me what to do  _ once _ ,” Ian shot back. Though he laughed in return, it didn’t reach his eyes. He was getting irritated too. “I don’t wanna be smashed and I’m already drunk, I don’t need more,” Ian insisted.

“Oh, c’mon, back when we went out you wouldn’t be happy until they cut you off!”

“I was seventeen then. And not on meds that get you hammered with one drink,” Ian asserted. Mickey’s chest swelled with pride. He could tell that Ian was drunk already from the way he was leaning on Mickey’s shoulder — they were open to affection in public but they just usually  _ didn’t  _ get too touchy. It wasn’t even conscious, they just didn’t. So with Ian hanging all over him, Mickey could tell he had a very good buzz going.

“Bar-bartender!” Monica called, completely ignoring Ian. “Bartender! Another round of tequila!” Ian rolled his eyes but didn’t fight her. When the bartender delivered their third shots Ian pushed the shot to Mickey who lined up his and Ian’s shots with ease. Monica’s jaw dropped. 

“Wow, now that’s a man who holds his liquor!” she laughed, clearly not understanding what this gesture meant as she ordered another round. Mickey huffed out a deep sigh as he prepared himself for two more shots and Ian tried to tell the bartender nevermind.

Another round appeared anyway and Ian mercifully suggested they all play pool to get them away from the bar. Monica, drunk and crazy that she was, tried to challenge some guys to a game with a $100 bet — the only cash she had on her Ian had bet under his breath to Mickey. Mickey rolled his eyes at her shenanigans.

“‘Course she’d try to stick us with the bill, huh?” Mickey murmured back. Ian laughed and nodded in agreement. When Monica turned back around she cooed over how precious they were to be so happy and proud to be together.

“Big change from last time I was here, right Ian?” Ian flushed and nodded, flashing an apologetic look at Mickey who was working to control his irritation. Did she really have to keep bringing up the days of Mickey being closeted?

“Yes, yes, lots of changes, lots of growth,” Mickey grumbled, grabbing a cue stick. “We’re all very proud of ourselves, right Ian?” Ian flushed deeper, knowing Mickey was referencing Ian’s recent acceptance of his bipolar.

“That’s all I ever wanted for my baby… For him to be loved by someone who truly loves him for exactly who he is,” Monica beamed. “And I’m just… So happy he has that. And considering who your dad is,” she directed at Mickey, “it’s really a miracle to see you so out and proud and open with him, you know?” Mickey’s face fell. Again with the Milkovich thing. He smiled tensely and passed the cue to Ian, announcing that he needed to take a leak.

When he returned, they were nowhere to be seen — both cue sticks on the table amid a full table of broken billiard balls. He scanned the bar but didn’t see them on the dance floor or by the bar. He stepped out onto the street and soon heard rather than saw the pair to locate them.

“Why’d you come back then?” Ian’s voice cried about fifty feet to Mickey’s left.

“Ian, I’m sorry! It’s just… I can’t just  _ forget  _ that he’s the reason you’ve changed so much!”

“Yeah, he  _ is  _ the reason — the reason I’ve got a full-time job that I love, the reason I’m not still pedaling my ass for money, the reason I’m still living with my family — ”

“But that’s the  _ drugs talking! You…  _ you’re being  _ repressed,  _ baby! I… I’m so proud of everything you’ve done, don’t get me wrong! And if you’re happy then I’m happy for you too. Just… You can’t expect me to forget how broken you were last time I saw you! How sad you were to be on this shit— ”

“Why are you here?” Ian demanded as Mickey approached.

“Everything alright here?” he asked.

“Fine,” Monica mumbled sadly.

“Oh, just getting a lecture from Mom of the Year,” Ian slurred to Mickey before turning back to her. “ _ Why a _ re you here?” he repeated.

“To see you!” she exclaimed.

“No, I mean what brought you back into town this time? I know it’s your  _ thing  _ to parachute into our lives and try to resume your ‘motherly role’ but I’m a grown-ass adult now. You don’t  _ get  _ to suddenly act like my mom, especially when you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Ian, I’m  _ so sorry  _ for all I missed and — ”

“Sorry?” Ian laughed darkly and Mickey’s stomach seized. This wasn’t Ian… Well, it was but this was the dark side of Ian that Mickey so rarely saw — and was happy that it was rare. When Ian got dark like this, he got brutal. “I don’t need you right now, Monica. You know when I did need you?” She kept mumbling “I’m sorrys” as though begging him to stop talking, begging him to have mercy on her, but he wasn’t feeling merciful. “I could have used you when I broke my collarbone at twelve, or when I got my heart  _ smashed  _ for the first time! But like everything else in my life until Mickey came around, I dealt with it myself.”

“I— I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything!”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have, so now you’re going to shut up and listen.” 

“Ian?” Mickey murmured gently, resting a supportive hand on Ian’s shoulder, but Ian was too drunk and too fired up.

“So you don’t get to come here, meet my boyfriend for the  _ first time  _ and try making him feel bad for looking after me and my  _ actual  _ best interests or try putting doubts in my head.”

“I just want you happy, Ian,” Monica begged.

“And I am!” Ian insisted. “I’ve  _ never been  _ happier! I’ve got my shit together and I  _ never  _ would have gotten here if I’d listened to you! So  _ stop trying to help when I don’t need it.  _ Don’t you know by now that  _ your help  _ just makes shit  _ worse?”  _ Monica visibly shrank from Ian’s words and Ian was about to continue, until he felt Mickey’s fingers slide between Ian’s, his tattooed hand gripping the freckled one in a tight, comforting squeeze. Mickey knew that if Ian continued, he was going to say something he’d regret. Best to stop while he was ahead. Ian turned to look in Mickey’s eyes and Mickey urged him to leave with just a look. It was remarkable how they could have whole conversations with looks alone, and in moments like these it was particularly useful.

“I think it’s time to go,” Mickey murmured. Monica nodded and discretely wiped her cheek.

“I’ll uh… I’ll settle the tab,” Monica promised — though both Ian and Mickey knew she had no intention to do so. 

Still hand in hand, Ian and Mickey took off toward the El. Once they were out of Monica’s earshot Mickey asked what had finally got under Ian’s skin that badly.

“She kept emphasizing the whole ‘Milkovich’ thing and kept asking me if I was really happy… Like you forced me to be on my meds or something. Then I told her I didn’t like how she was talking to you and she shot back that she didn’t like how you were controlling me or some shit. Just… Total bullshit, I don’t know where the fuck she gets off.”

Mickey’s stomach sank. He knew it was bullshit, but there was still a small insecure side of him that always wondered if he did kind of force Ian into taking his meds and if that was right. But he knew, from the sound of it, that Ian wouldn’t agree with that idea.

“What’d you get quiet for?” Ian asked with a tinge of worry. Mickey shrugged. Ian stumbled a little bit from turning his attention from where he was walking to Mickey’s face and Mickey helped to steady him with a light laugh. Ian laughed too, seeming to just realize how drunk he still was. “Maybe I went a little overboard?” Ian asked. Mickey shrugged again.

“Nothin that she didn’t deserve to hear,” Mickey assured. “Though… I don’t know if I deserve all that shit you said about me…” Mickey murmured more to himself than to Ian, though Ian heard him.

“You deserve even more, Mick,” Ian assured. Mickey’s chest inflated and stomach fluttered at the praise.

“You know I just look out for you because I love you,” Mickey replied as nonchalantly as a profession of love could be. Ian stopped walking and whirled Mickey around, pulling on his arm to twirl him in and Mickey gasped a little as Ian connected his lips to Mickey’s. When their lips parted Ian smiled, Mickey could feel the smile against the tip of his nose where Ian’s cheeks rose.

“I love you too, Mick. That’s why I couldn’t let her talk to you like that.” Mickey smiled in return.

“So… No more Monica for a while, huh?” Mickey guessed. Ian sighed and laughed.

“Not for a while.”


End file.
